


I Can Feel Your Pulse in the Pages

by spaceprincess97



Category: Dalton Academy Series
Genre: College AU, Dark Academia, I'm sorry this is so late Bridget, M/M, living la vida locah baybee, the dark academia fic of my dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincess97/pseuds/spaceprincess97
Summary: College AU. Micah is the hot guy in Logan's SciFi Lit class who's got all the answers... but does he have the answer? to Logan's heart?
Relationships: John Logan Wright III/Micah Randall
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	I Can Feel Your Pulse in the Pages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [senator_princess_general](https://archiveofourown.org/users/senator_princess_general/gifts).



It wasn’t that Logan thought that his Introduction to Science Fiction class was boring... but he couldn’t stop his attention from drifting every class. It wasn’t that the reading list was bad, either, he was actually excited for the coursework, and it wasn’t the professor even, who seemed perfectly capable and enthusiastic. It was just… well, it was the guy who sat in front of him.

The guy was never paying attention either, but he was always busy. Reading, usually. He’d started with the coursework, Logan remembered seeing  _ 1984 _ and  _ Brave New World _ in the syllabus, but once he’d finished those books, the guy just started working his way through another stack of classics. He spent every class, without fail, flipping through a novel, slender fingers ghosting across the pages. 

Logan hadn’t noticed him at first. He was busy with his own distractions, texting Derek or Julian, or finishing his homework for his next class. He’d never liked listening in lectures anyway, had always preferred to go through the powerpoints and reading on his own time. It worked for him, usually, except when—

“Logan?”

Logan’s head jerked up from the conversation he was having with Derek on his laptop. The professor was looking at him expectantly. What were they talking about?  _ Ender’s Game _ ? Fuck.

“Can uh,” Logan smiled winningly. “Could you repeat the question?”

“The giant, Logan. What does it symbolize?”

Logan fought the urge to flip through the book in front of him. He’d meant to do the reading, had put aside half an hour before class to do it, even, but he just ran out of time. 

“The Giant,” Logan started, ready to spin out a nonsense answer. “Represents—”

And there, like a light in the dark, the guy who sat in front of him shifted, revealing the words “ _ people in control _ ” written in the corner of his notebook. 

“The Giant represents the people in control of Ender’s life,” Logan said smoothly, like he’d known the answer all along. 

The professor nodded, satisfied enough with that answer, and moved on. Logan’s savior, who hadn’t put down his book through this whole incident, continued to read as though nothing had happened, but Logan could’ve sworn he saw the hint of a smile on his face. And that was it. From then on, he was Novel Guy, occupying Logan’s thoughts through every science fiction lecture. Once he’d started looking, he hadn’t stopped. He noticed the scuffed oxfords, the way he was always pushing the wire frames of his glasses up his nose. If this was high school, Logan would have already tried to charm the pants off this guy. He would’ve already wooed him with a serenade, or something but… Logan didn’t want to be that guy anymore, the guy who pushed too hard too fast. So he said nothing. 

It went on like this for weeks, with Logan just watching him read in class. Occasionally, he’d contribute to discussion, his voice quiet but self-assured. And then he’d go right back to his book, as though he’d never been paying attention in the first place. Fascinating. 

***

Sure, Logan had noticed the words “group essay” on the syllabus when he first got it. That didn’t mean he was more prepared when, three weeks out from finals, the professor handed out the project outline with his partner’s name—his  _ assigned  _ partner’s name—written on the top. Logan scowled. He hated group projects like this, where he was left to the mercy of some idiot who wanted to try too hard or not hard enough. He looked at the name scrawled next to his: Micah Randall. Logan sighed, and glanced around the room of people hunting down their partners, wondering where to start. 

“Logan?”

Him. Novel Guy.  _ The Iliad  _ tucked under one arm, holding a hand out to Logan. 

“I’m Micah, I think we’re partners?”

Logan blinked, and took his hand. He grinned. 

“Yeah it’s uh… it’s nice to meet you.”

Micah smiled. 

“So,  _ Frankenstein _ , huh?”

***

When they started working together, Logan had been prepared to put aside his feelings (mostly). But he hadn’t been prepared for Micah to be so  _ annoying _ . Quiet, soft-spoken Micah, with his stupid glasses and his stupid sweaters, was as stubborn as he was smart. 

“Logan, you can’t just decide that  _ Hamlet _ is supposed to be performed one way.”

Micah’s expression was kind, genial even. What an asshole. 

“But multiple analyses have shown that—”

“And they’re right! But that can’t be the only way to interpret the text.”

Micah fumbled with his pants, pulling them up and looping his belt. Logan pulled a book at random from the shelf next to him.  _ Twelfth Night.  _ He snorted and shoved it back in. 

Why can’t you admit that I’m right?”

Micah shook his head. 

“You are right, Logan. But you’re also wrong.”

Logan ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. 

“Why do we always end up arguing about Shakespeare?”

Micah handed him his messenger bag.

“Maybe fuck me in the fantasy section next time and we’ll argue about that instead.”

Micah squeezed Logan’s arm and pushed past him out of the aisle. 

“Arwen should have chosen to stay immortal,” Logan called after him. 

“I disagree,” Micah said cheerfully over his shoulder. Logan groaned.

When they had started working together, Logan also hadn’t been prepared for  _ this _ . Their first study session had ended with Micah on his knees and Logan reeling from one of the best orgasms of his life. From there, it had just escalated. 

Sometimes they made it back to Micah’s apartment, only a five minute walk from campus, but usually they didn’t even make it out of the library; they just disappeared into the stacks and hoped no one would notice. More than once, Logan had held a hand over Micah’s mouth to stifle a moan that would have given them away. 

“Logan,” Micah would groan, nails digging into Logan’s back. “Fuck— _ harder. _ ”

And Logan would push him up against the bookcase, thrusting into him fast and rough, trailing kisses down his neck. 

They spent more time hooking up in the library than they did working on their paper—the paper for which the deadline was approaching at a frightening speed. Logan wasn’t worried about that, they had hammered out an outline early on, chosen their sources. It was just a matter of writing it. 

But Logan worried about what happened after. Every touch, every argument, it felt… temporary. Would they even talk once this project was over? Once this class was over? Micah, as annoying as he could be, was a welcome distraction from everything else: his father, his grades, the friends he wasn’t really making. Logan didn’t know what he’d do when that distraction was gone. 

***

“—And I told her, I didn’t hook up with her roommate! That was the old me, I’d never do that now.”

“Uh huh,” Logan responded absently, working through the edits on his  _ Frankenstein _ essay while Derek rambled on about some girl. Micah had left notes through his section of the Google doc and Logan was picking through them. They were unsurprisingly thorough, but Logan was pleased to see that the majority were positive, encouraging instead of combative. 

“Logan are you listening to me?” Derek didn’t sound offended, just tired. For weeks, Logan had been spacey on phone calls, distracted by Micah. 

“Yeah, you didn’t sleep with her roommate, I got it, D.” Logan frowned at a note telling him to revise an incoherent sentence, then grimaced when he saw that Micah was right. 

Derek sighed. 

“Have you talked to him?”

“I talk to him every day, Derek.”

“You know what I mean. Dude, if you like him you’ve gotta say something.”

Logan pushed over the empty coffee cup in front of him. 

“I don’t like him. All we ever do is argue about books.”

“Or bang in the library,” Derek contributed. “But have you considered that both of you  _ enjoy _ arguing about books?”

Logan didn’t answer him. Derek sighed again. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Logan, but I also don’t want to listen to you bitch about this forever just because you didn’t shoot your shot.”

Fair point. Logan scowled. 

“I hate you.”

“Love you too. I’ll talk to you later.”

Derek hung up. Logan considered the essay in front of him, the eloquent little notes lining the margins. He hated to admit it, but Derek was right. He did like arguing with Micah. He liked how much he cared, how when he got really passionate about something he rolled up his sleeves, like he was getting ready to fight. He was smart, and funny, and, Logan wasn’t ready to let him go. Also, the sex was pretty spectacular, and Logan wasn’t ready to let that go either. 

***

“Micah, wait!”

Logan ran after him, bag thumping against his side. Micah stopped and turned to face him, his expression unreadable. 

“Hey, Logan.”

Amicable. Neutral. Indecipherable. God damn it. 

They’d submitted their essay a week ago, Logan unceremoniously emailing it to the professor. And from there: radio silence. Logan hadn’t received any texts from Micah except a thumbs up when he told him that the essay had been submitted. To be fair, it’s not like Logan had texted Micah either. And they had never talked in class to begin with, saving their meetings for the library or Micah’s apartment. It’s just that Logan thought (or maybe just hoped) that things could be different. 

“Hey,” Logan said back. The silence stretched awkwardly. Micah raised his eyebrows, waiting. Logan felt tense, a little helpless. He didn’t like this, didn’t like feeling like he wasn’t in control. He wanted to leave. Before he could back down, Logan said,

“Look just—here.”

Logan pulled a pristine hardcover out of his bag.  _ The Illiad.  _ Micah took it, not hiding his surprise. He flipped through the pages and saw that the book was annotated, with notes scrawled on little sticky notes hanging out the sides. 

“Logan this is a collector’s edition.”

“I know.”

Micah looked up at him, eyes wide.

“What—how did you get this?”

Logan shrugged. 

“I bought it.”

Micah huffed out a laugh and shook his head. He clutched the book tighter to his chest. 

“I—i don’t even know what to say. Thank you, Logan. This means a lot to me.”

“Of course. I just,” Logan gave him what he hoped was a winning smile. “I just thought you ought to have it.”

“Yeah,” Micah said softly. “I guess? I’ll see you around?”

Maybe it was just in Logan’s head, but Micah sounded almost hopeful. 

“Yeah,” Logan breathed, relieved. “Yeah, you will.”

Micah gave him a little nod and turned away, scarf flapping a little in the wind. Logan watched him go, feeling content. 

“Hey, Micah?” he called out. Micah looked back at him. Logan jerked his head at the book. 

“Let me know when you finish that. I have some thoughts about Patroclus.”

Micah rolled his eyes goodnaturedly and walked away. Logan knew the challenge would bait him into reading it sooner rather than later. At least he hoped it would; otherwise he’d need a refund on the two tickets to _ Hamlet _ tucked in the back cover. 


End file.
